Unknown number:You will be lucky if I let you come for a week after standing me up. Call me as soon as you get my messages.
Harlow:He is gone, but you have some explaining to do young lady. . . p.s an angry Isaac is as sexy-as-fuck.
A chuckle escapes my lips when I read Harlow’s last message. If she thinks an upset Isaac is sexy as hell, wait until she sees a jealous Isaac.
My uneasy gaze bounces around the room. Other than catching the eye of Brandon, the rest of the team's focus remains on other tasks. I send a message to Harlow telling her I'll pop into the bakery later this afternoon and explain everything. Once I have the crumpled business card Isaac scribbled his cell phone number on months ago in my hot little hands, I scamper back to the supply closet.
I nearly lose grip of my phone while dialing Isaac's private cell phone number since my palms are slicked with sweat. I'm nervous Isaac will uphold his threat of not letting me orgasm for a week.I really hope it is just an idle threat.
Isaac connects our call before one full ring sounds through my ear. “Isabelle.”
Although his tone is clipped, my name rolling off his tongue sends an excited thrill through my body.
“I just got your messages now,” I blurt out.
A length of silence crosses between us.
“Because I was late this morning, my boss made me work through lunch,” I explain, my tone getting edgier.
It is technically Isaac’s fault I arrived late, so if anyone should be punished for my tardiness, it should be him.
“A simple message advising me you were unable to attend lunch would have been appreciated,” he says. “Then I wouldn’t have been spending the last two hours panicked something horrible happened to you.”
My heart clutches in my chest. “I’m sorry.” Tears dampen my eyes. “I left my phone in my desk drawer, but I promise I’ll carry it with me at all times from now on.” I’ll say anything to relieve his worry. I don’t want to be responsible for any more concern in Isaac’s life.
Another stretch of silence fills the void. “Hugo will pick you up outside of your office building at 6 PM.”
Before I can reply, Isaac disconnects the call.
Pulling my phone down from my ear, I return a message to the unknown number.
Me:I’ll make up for our missed date tonight. Dessert is on me. ;)
A short time later my phone dings, indicating I’ve received a text message.
Isaac:Dessert IS you, Isabelle.
Warm slickness pools between my legs. . . until my phone dings again.
Isaac:But that doesn’t mean I’ll let you come.
Pouting, I shove my phone into my pocket and spend the next two hours miserably scanning documents before going to Harlow’s bakery for the afternoon coffee run.
While Harlow prepares the coffees, I give her a rundown on everything that happened over the weekend, skimming over the parts of the story I uncovered immorally. She fans her cheeks during some of the more heated parts of our conversation. Once I've finished spilling every sordid detail of my weekend with Isaac, my jaw muscle is burning in exhaustion from how much talking I've done.
“I’m so glad you guys have finally gotten your shit together,” Harlow says, handing me the two crates of coffee she has just finished preparing. “I’ll text Cormack later and see if we can organize a double date sometime next week.”
I freeze. I can’t risk being seen with Isaac in public. Well, not until his investigation is finalized.
“Why don’t we have a more intimate gathering. I could cook dinner at my place?”
Harlow glares at me like I’ve grown a second head.
“I couldtryand cook us dinner,” I add on.
Harlow’s boisterous chuckle echoes around the nearly empty bakery. “We’ll work something out.”
Rolling my eyes, I wave goodbye as well as I can while carrying two full crates of coffee before exiting the bakery.
